


Show Me Your True Form

by Yume_Onata



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Angst, F/M, Jealousy, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Slow Burn, Smut, Unrequited Love, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-16 05:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14157795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yume_Onata/pseuds/Yume_Onata
Summary: “Do be careful with that honesty of yours,” Akechi had said, the lilt of his voice penetrating your jumbled thoughts.Of course you had a Palace. You wanted every part of Ren—every part of him that you couldn’t have, every part of him that belonged to Niijima Makoto. It would be easy to close the distance, to slide your mouth across his, to feel his lips react to the unexpected gesture.(Or, in which you, a member of the Phantom Thieves, have a very inappropriate obsession with your leader. Luckily for you, Akechi rarely lets things go unnoticed.)





	1. Confessional

**Author's Note:**

> Having just finished Persona 5 (yes, very late, I know) and with the anime starting soon, my thirst is real. I thought I'd share it with the rest of you. 
> 
> This is gonna be a long ride, ya'll. Strap yourselves in and enjoy.

****T here was always something calming about Leblanc—the way the aromas of coffee and curry intermingled, playing teasingly upon your palette before you even took the first bite. Sojiro’s curry was a study in masterclass, the deeply rich and complex flavors boldly innovative to your senses. The brew of coffee Ren had made for you was almost the opposite, though the attention to detail was no less admirable in its execution. Ren’s coffee was tangibly filling in both its warmth and taste profile, the hint of bitterness that crept up at the end of each sip somehow reflecting the aura he sometimes gave off when he was stressed or uneasy. 

 

You listened to the steady stream of water pour out of the faucet as Ren washed the leftover dishes from a previous customer, his understanding of your need to be alone for the moment an unspoken decree that kept him busy as the TV chittered on in the background, relaying the evening news. You paid it no mind, each spoonful of curry more pleasing than the last, each one healing the dull ache you’d felt before trudging into the cafe, your hair and uniform soaked from the brief, late-September shower that had overtaken Shibuya.

 

The way he’d said your name when he saw you—gray eyes widening imperceptibly behind his thick-framed glasses—was enough to make you stay, even as logic and reason threatened to pull you back out onto the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya. You would have waited outside forever if Morgana hadn’t spotted you through Ren’s window, his voice tinny in the rapid downpour as he called down to you, paws pressed against the glass, his tail swishing rapidly behind him. You’d motioned to the black-and-white cat, hoping to deter him, to make him forget that he’d seen you there, staring up at the window like some strange stalker, but Morgana’s persistence caused a wave of guilt to wash over you, his obligation toward you as a Phantom Thief and friend causing curiosity and worry to creep into his bright, blue gaze. He’d taken in your drenched vest and the way your hair had clung to the sides of your face, as if you’d been hoping to hide from him—or perhaps, even, the rest of the world.

 

With the last customer of the evening gone, Morgana was able to saunter downstairs; you watched him leap onto the chair posted at the counter, his eyes impassive. “How do you feel?” he asked after a beat, small, white fangs peeking out as he spoke. “I bet it was nice to get out of the cold.”

 

“It was,” you replied, hoping your voice remained steady—neutral. After taking the last bite of curry on your plate, you set your spoon among the dredges. “I’m sorry it’s so late. I didn’t mean to bother you.”

 

“It’s no problem,” you heard Ren say, though he hadn’t paused to look at you. “Sojiro left for the night, anyway.”

 

Boss certainly was a handful at times. Although he was occasionally crabby, his heart was in the right place. Even so, if he knew you were here after hours, he wouldn’t let you or Ren hear the end of it; that man had a peculiar mind, always jumping to unsavory conclusions when it suited him. You wouldn’t have minded the implications, your thoughts supplied as you downed the last of your coffee, fingers pinched around the cup’s handle. As long as it was Ren—

the dependable leader of your ragtag group, the one who never failed to have your back in a Palace as Shadows leapt out at you from every corner, threatening to swallow your very existence—it was perfectly acceptable. As long as it was Ren, you would be fine with whatever Sojiro’s brain concocted.

 

_ Stupid _ , you heard yourself say, the voice in your mind both faraway and uncomfortably near.  _ That’s why you have this problem in the first place. _

 

You dipped a hand into your schoolbag, hand closing around your phone.

 

He would understand, wouldn’t he? He of all people had to understand. He was a Phantom Thief. He was Joker.

 

You were painfully aware of Morgana’s stare as you scrolled through the icons on your phone, your index finger hovering over the garish red eye of the Metaverse Navigator’s logo.

 

You’d been there for Futaba’s Palace. It had been a giant and elaborate pyramid, the sweltering heat from the sands outside in sharp contrast to the cool, closed off interior. She had confronted her Shadow, the cognitive being born from the trauma of having lost her mother, Isshiki Wakaba. It hadn’t been a particularly volatile Shadow, you remembered. Just a distantly protective one with the urge to unveil the truth to Futaba without the cloud of deceit the horrible adults in her life had placed over her. When you’d asked Morgana if any other Shadows were capable of that kind of self-awareness—a misguided self-sufficiency—he’d admitted that he wasn’t quite sure.

 

_ “Why are you so curious?” _ Morgana had wondered, peering up at you as you ate your lunch, ears drawn slightly back.

 

_ “No specific reason,”  _ you’d said, grains of cooked rice rolling unpleasantly against your tongue.

 

Yet, Morgana was perceptive—unnaturally so, even for a talking cat.

 

When you’d glanced up, you had found Ren looking at you, his traditional, Friday yakisoba pan untouched.

 

“Morgana,” you found yourself saying, your voice strangely hollow, the weight pressing against your chest almost too much to bear. “Can I ask you something?”

 

He nodded, his tail twitching. “Of course.”

 

“Could you remind me again why a Palace is born?”

 

Morgana’s eyes grew larger before receding again. “That isn’t like you to ask a question like that. You aren’t Ryuji.”

 

A meaningless jab, perhaps intended to make you laugh or crack a smile. When you didn’t, his glossy fur bristled at the base of his spine.

 

“Please, Morgana,” you said, tongue thick with remorse. “Just remind me.”

 

He tipped his head in Ren’s direction before returning his gaze to you. “A Palace is born from a person’s distorted desires,” he finally said, pausing only to gauge your reaction, the way your brows pinched and your shoulders tensed. “These desires could be anything—from a creep preying on high school girls, to a man obsessed with money and baser wants. The desire has to be especially strong, though—otherwise, their personal Treasure will end up in Mementos. When a Palace has formed, that means the person’s desires have far exceeded their ability to contain them.”

 

Your stomach churned at his explanation, the coffee and curry threatening to make a reappearance.

 

You really were that twisted, you conceded. There was no way around that fact now.

 

Your cellphone clattered against the table at the booth Ren had initially guided you to, your hand unable remain steady as your whole body shook.

 

Somewhere between your conversation with Morgana and your inability to think straight, Ren had finished the dishes, the ties of his familiar green apron hanging listlessly at his waist as he stopped to call out to you. You ignored him, head thumping softly against the worn but polished surface of the table, your arms sliding around you, fingers creating grooves in the cloth of your blouse as you clutched at your biceps. Morgana approached you from your left, Ren on your right, his large, warm hand falling to your back as his thumb hooked against your nape. It was a startlingly intimate gesture, but Ren was your leader—he was used to offering contact and support when someone needed it, even accustomed to offering distance when he sensed it was necessary. He was always in tune to you and your needs, mindful of your less-than-stellar home life and your wish for escapism. It was why you frequented Leblanc, why you came early in the morning on Sundays or during the after hours on weekdays, your frame slumped against a chair in his room, hands working furiously at the controls on his retro game console as you tried to take your mind off everything that was bothering you.

 

He was good with people, even if they weren’t good with him. Having been pushed to the very boundaries of society, Ren was a natural at reading situations and people.

 

Maybe that was why he was so good for Makoto. He could read her even when she couldn’t effectively read herself.

 

“Hey,” Ren said, his voice soft. “It’s going to be okay.” He said your name again—warm and coaxing, innocent in the way it implored you. “Did something happen at home?”

 

How could he know? You’d never given him the impression that it was anything else; nothing to indicate that sometimes, the tears weren’t because of the way your mother pressured you into forgoing college in favor of helping her with expenses, or the way your father was never around to relieve the burdens and stress of living on the edge from paycheck to paycheck. Part-time jobs could only offer so much, she would reason. Sooner or later you’d  _ really _ have to contribute. Being a Phantom Thief had lifted some of that pressure, had given you an outlet to take out your frustrations. Your mother hadn’t questioned where the occasional extra money came from, the times when you’d all splurged on celebrating after taking down a Palace filling you with guilt. Your share of the spoils rarely ever went to treating yourself. Feeding your younger sibling was far more important than that.

 

“Nothing at home,” you replied, the heels of your palms pushing against your eyelids. “I promise it has nothing to do with that.”

 

You felt Morgana press his small body along your thigh. You weren’t Ann, you told yourself. It was a harmless gesture. A consoling one.

 

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Ren said, his breath fanning against your ear, the heat of it burning off the frayed ends of a string long drawn taut inside of you. “I promise I won’t pry.”

 

_ I want you to _ , you thought, his genuine concern making you greedy—greedier than you’d ever been.

 

If Ren knew what you harbored in your heart, it would only make him withdraw, turn into himself.

 

You were also sure Makoto wouldn’t be as understanding as you hoped.

 

Joker and Queen were the ultimate pair—the leader and the tactician. Good both in the Metaverse and out of it. The couple that Ryuji envied, the one that Ann aspired to emulate, the kind Yusuke wanted to capture in art, the one Futaba poked fun at but wholeheartedly accepted, the duo that enriched Haru’s romantically-inclined heart even as it evoked tendrils of harmless jealousy.

 

You could never hope to compete with that. Never.

 

All the other Phantom Thieves were so much better than you. They were satisfied with the status quo among the group dynamic. They carried no ill will.

 

You were no better than the shitty adults you fought to stop.

 

“Ren,” you murmured, hating how desperate you sounded, the way his name filled every corner of your mouth. “ _ Please _ , you have to promise not to think any less of me.” A selfish request, but one you felt compelled to make nonetheless. “You have to promise that I can still be a part of the team.”

 

“Of course,” he replied without hesitation, and his earnestness only dampened your resolve. “You always have a place with the Phantom Thieves.”

 

It was easier not to look at him, you realized. You avoided his eyes, focusing solely on his mouth, the way his lips curled, the subtle dip of his cupid’s bow.

 

You were wrong to do this, to sow this discord. There’d be no turning back.

 

“I was playing around with the Metaverse app last week, after I got home from school,” you began, swallowing down the bile threatening to make its way to your throat. “I basically triggered it by accident.”

 

You found the strength to unfurl yourself like a flower, hand reaching for your phone, fingers moving through the app’s history.

 

The keywords stared back at you mockingly.

 

“Unrequited. Wild Card. Love Hotel,” Morgana recited slowly. He tilted his head to meet your gaze. “What is this? Don’t tell me…”

 

You shifted away from Ren before he could pull his hand off you. “It took me a bit to figure out the last trigger. I never imagined it’d be  _ that _ .”

 

Before Morgana could finish saying your name, you cut in. “I have a Palace. It’s at my apartment complex.”

 

The revelation hung in the air, its presence like a shroud descending upon all of you in pervasive, undulating waves. You suddenly wanted to vomit.

 

Ren’s brows furrowed, his expression thoughtful rather than unpleasant. “Futaba had a Palace, too. We’ll just have to take care of it, won’t we?”

 

“I’d rather you not,” you said, closing the app with a grimace. “Palaces aren’t dangerous, right? I only told you because you’re our leader. I don’t really want to keep it a secret from the others, but there are more important things to take care of than this.”

 

Ren’s hand closed over yours, the newly formed callouses on his fingers scraping pleasantly against your feverish skin. “Whatever’s happening, it’s not more important than helping out a teammate.”

 

“It  _ is _ ,” you tried to reason, wincing as your voice cracked. “It’s something  _ I _ have to deal with, not any of—“

 

You were effectively silenced, the little bell atop Leblanc’s door ringing as someone entered the cafe.

 

So concerned with tending to you, Ren had forgotten to change the sign from open to closed.

 

“Oh, am I interrupting something? I apologize.”

 

You knew that voice anywhere, had heard it on TV on more than one occasion, during interviews and television specials that featured fresh young faces changing Japanese society for the better. He believed in his own justice—a righteous justice that didn’t have any regard for the kind the Phantom Thieves doled out in order to save others. In many ways, he was the antithesis of Ren; while your leader gave no qualms about pleasing anyone he had no interest in, this boy smiled at everyone in nearly the same unnerving manner, the way his mouth curved at the corners more feline even than Morgana. There was a mask there, you were sure. Not the kind you and the other Phantom Thieves wore in the Metaverse, but the mask Ren had crafted for himself with his glasses—a way to keep up appearances, to sidestep unpalatable questions and give society the impression that he was a functioning, well-meaning young adult. This boy’s mask was far different though, its sophisticated properties belying the unfathomable darkness you often suspected he carried underneath.

 

Albeit Ren was cordial, the mood had shifted. “No worries. I was just about to close up.”

 

“Is Sakura-san not here?” Akechi wondered aloud, gloved fingers cupping his chin. “That’s a shame. I was hoping I’d be able to catch him.”

 

Akechi was never good news. He unsettled you, more so than any of the adults who made their desires openly visible.

 

Morgana peeked out from behind you, his eyes shrewd as he gave Akechi a once-over. You instinctively pushed his head down.

 

You bristled when Akechi’s gaze traveled from Ren’s face to your own.

 

“Hello,” he said, his tone pleasant and endearing. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

 

Not long enough, you wanted to say, but you let the words dissolve on your tongue. “Yeah,” you replied. “I heard the Phantom Thieves have been giving you trouble lately. Your popularity took a surprising dip.”

 

Akechi seemed genuinely troubled by your comment, his concerned expression retreating almost as soon as you saw it. “Society is quite fickle, I’m afraid. One day you’re on top, and the next you’re clawing at the bottom, trying to find a way out. I try not to let it bother me too much. I will always stand by my convictions, even if they don’t align with popular trends.”

 

_ Admirable _ , you thought, even if you didn’t believe for a second that he’d been wholly unfazed by it all.

 

You placed your elbow against the table, your chin finding the palm of your hand. Ren began clearing your dishes. “Sometimes we violate the expectations people have of us,” you said, consciously aware of the way Morgana stiffened against your leg. Ren was out of earshot by the time you spoke again, the dishes clinking noisily in the sink, the spray of water passing over them in a steady stream. “When you violate those expectations, you also end up violating the implicit trust someone may have had in you.”

 

You caught the way Akechi’s brown eyes flickered. Without Ren as a buffer, his stare was disturbingly unyielding. “Is this a fear you’ve had? Or perhaps you’re speaking from experience?”

 

You squeezed your left hand into a fist beneath the table, nails biting into your palm. “Does it matter?”

 

You’d never spoken to Akechi before. Not like this. Not without the other members of your group standing by, tackling him head-on as a unit.

 

Your skin prickled at his probing gaze, the smile he flashed you trademark in its brilliance. You hated it.

 

“Not particularly, no.”

 

When Ren returned, it felt like a breath of fresh air. His warmth enveloped you, even as it saddened you.

 

“I suppose I’ll be going now,” Akechi said, as if taking the hint. “Remember, if you have any information—any at all—about the Phantom Thieves, please don’t hesitate to contact me.” He winked before turning on his heel, his hand tugging at the handle of the cafe's door. He paused at the threshold, lids heavy as he regarded the chilly night air with a melancholic look. “Please do stay out of trouble, Ren. I wouldn’t want our friendship to be compromised. And you,” he added, glancing over his shoulder, his eyes taking you in—the way your body froze at his entreating, fixated gaze. You felt your face flush with color, your cheeks puffing up as you sucked in a breath.

 

It was a look you craved from Ren. Inquisitive, touched with a hint of fondness.

 

It was strange, seeing it on Akechi. It didn’t matter that it was most likely artificial. No one had ever really looked at you like that before.

 

“Do be careful with that honesty of yours.”

 

As soon as he disappeared, Morgana hopped onto the table, tail moving back and forth as his ears twitched. “I hate that guy. Always acts like he’s got all the answers even when he doesn’t.”

 

Your body slackened, all the pressure and tension leaving your frame as you splayed out in the booth. “You never know. Maybe he  _ does _ have all the answers.”

 

Morgana huffed. “He doesn’t deserve that much credit.”

 

Palms resting on your stomach, your gaze slid to Ren, his hands buried in the pockets of his jeans as he eyed you with unveiled worry.

 

“Are you going to be okay?”

 

Did he want you to answer that honestly? You caught the laughter that bubbled in your throat, stamping it down. “Yeah, I guess.”

 

Morgana tilted his head. “We can sort out the issue with your Palace tomorrow. Don’t think we’ll just forget about it either,” he remarked, sauntering up to you on the edge of the table. If he’d been in his Metaverse form, you were sure he would have given you a sterner expression.

 

“You can stay,” Ren offered innocuously. “Sojiro wouldn’t mind.”

 

You had stayed over on more than one occasion in the past; on nights when you had remained at the cafe well past closing and when the trains had stopped running, Sojiro would put you up on the condition that no “funny business” was allowed at his place of business. Even if  _ he _ saw you and Ren in that way, Ren clearly didn’t, so the sleepovers weren’t anything more than a friendly form of companionship. Ever since Ren and Makoto began dating, you wondered how often he brought her here, how many times they had slunk up to the attic, an arm around her shoulder or his hand settled at her hip. You wondered if she laughed in that poised way when he kissed her cheek, or if she unraveled, his mouth slanting across hers, her fingers clutching at the fabric of his shirt as his hands moved to cradle the back of her head. Although you had first pegged Makoto for the type to not have sex until she was married, your opinion of her had slowly metamorphosed, the sly looks and gentle caresses she planted on Ren’s arm or thigh hinting at something intimate and unspoken between them. Ren was a teenage boy, you reasoned—a teenage boy who probably liked and thought about sex as much as the next male his age; he was the kind of boy who wasn’t afraid to express his wants and desires to a girlfriend more than eager and willing to be his equal out of the bedroom as well as in it.

 

The thought of Ren having sex with Makoto left your throat feeling closed and your chest heaving.

 

You rose from the booth as a wave of nausea overtook you.

 

“I can’t stay. I have to go home.”

 

“It’s not safe for you to be out on your own at this time of night,” Morgana argued. “Besides, tomorrow is Sunday. It’s not like you have school.”

 

“I don’t have any clothes,” you rebutted, the corners of your eyes pricking.

 

“You can borrow mine,” Ren replied, his smile lopsided. “I know they’re not a perfect fit but you can manage.”

 

You glanced at the clock, the ticking secondhand moving in rhythmic bursts. “Fine. You guys are way too pushy.”

 

“Let me finish up here and then we’ll head upstairs.”

 

You nodded, watching Ren as he moved about the cafe like a dutiful worker bee. He washed down the surfaces with cleaner and a spare rag as the TV finished its news roundup for the night, the anchorwoman on camera flashing the audience a cordial smile just as the shot cut away from her.

 

“Hey,” Morgana called out to you, his tone soft, voice little more than a hush. “Can I ask you something?”

 

You turned to him, your hand reaching out to pat him affectionately on the head. “Sure.”

 

“Those keywords we saw on the Metaverse app… Do they mean what I think they do?”

 

You stared at Morgana for the longest time, his blue eyes boring into yours, saying all the things he didn’t want to say aloud, asking all the questions he didn’t have the will to give form and shape.

 

“What do you think they mean?” you asked, matching his volume, the words small and inconsequential in the tiny space of the booth.

 

Morgana lowered his head, his whiskers brushing against the inside of your wrist. “It’s because of Ren, isn’t it?”

 

It felt freeing to have him say it; a current of relief crested over you, cleansing in its embrace. “You really are a smart cat, Morgana.”

 

His eyes became hooded as he whispered your name. He didn’t have the heart to remind you that he wasn’t, in fact, a cat.

 

Your vision clouded and shimmered, and before you could stop them, the tears fell, wet and heavy against the leather chair beneath your head.

 

At this angle, you hoped Ren couldn’t see that you were crying.

 

You felt Morgana’s weight settle against your chest, his tiny paws dimpling your blouse. “You should tell him. He’ll find out eventually, won’t he?”

 

You shielded your face with trembling palms.

 

_ “Do be careful with that honesty of yours,”  _ Akechi had said, the lilt of his voice penetrating your jumbled thoughts.

 

He didn’t know a damn thing about you, aside from the fact that you were friends with those who were suspected of being the Phantom Thieves. Yet his advice resonated with you now in its simplicity and the way it said everything while saying nothing.

 

“If we ever get to that bridge, we’ll cross it,” you told Morgana, any energy you’d managed to retain before melting away from your body in long, cloudy wisps. “I don’t want to be the person that ruins someone else’s happiness.”

 

“Your happiness matters too,” Morgana replied. “It’s because you’ve neglected it for so long that you have a Palace now.”

 

You were accustomed to neglecting yourself for others. This was no different.

 

“I’d rather we not talk about this right now, if that’s okay.”

 

Morgana opened his mouth to say something, but he paused, thinking better of it.

 

You were thankful your tears had stopped by the time Ren’s shadow hovered above you, blocking out the cafe’s overhead light.

 

“You up for a game of  _ Golfer Sarutahiko _ before bed?” he asked, gray eyes soft but alert. You had always admired Ren’s thick lashes, the way they dusted his fair cheeks. He wasn’t wearing his glasses you noticed, the barrier that separated him from other people something he often forwent in your presence. You liked to think it was because he trusted you with his true self—the young man accused of a crime he hadn’t committed, the boy from another life in another town not so far from Yongen-Jaya. His parents hadn’t exactly been the nurturing sort, he’d told you once, his fingers absentmindedly thumbing the page of a novel he’d been allowed to check out from the school library. He’d looked the most honest you’d ever seen him then, chin tucked against his hand, eyes lowered to the table. Although they hadn’t explicitly told him that he’d have been better off minding his own business, the fact that they’d been more than willing to let him serve out his probation in another location had been especially telling to you.

 

_ “I love my parents,” _ he’d insisted.  _ “They just didn’t understand why I did what I did.” _

 

_ “Do you regret it?”  _ you’d asked him, the question tumbling out, unbidden.

 

He’d looked at you as though he’d been asked some form of that question once before.

 

_ “No,” _ he’d said, the corner of his mouth curling upward in a smile that bordered on sardonic.  _ “No, I don’t.” _

 

“Ren,” Morgana began to chastise, tail shooting straight up. “You’ll ruin your sleeping—“

 

“Sure, I’ll play,” you said, lifting your prone body from the seat, secretly enjoying the way Morgana tumbled off you with a half-strangled shriek. You flashed Ren the brightest smile you could manage, your cheeks straining to hold it. “Don’t get mad if I beat you again, though.”

 

Ren’s own smile widened, the tilt of his mouth reminding you of your Palace escapades. It was close to the smile he flashed in battle when he had the upper hand against a particularly nasty Shadow. It made you bristle, a pleasant shiver skating along your spine.

 

“Has it ever crossed your mind that I might have  _ let _ you win?”

 

You threw an arm across the back of the booth’s chair, your eyes peeking up at Ren through the curtain of your hair. “You’d never, Mr. Joker.”

 

Your heart nearly leapt to your throat as he closed the distance between the both of you, his gaze peering over you, sizing you up.

 

You saw something flicker behind Ren’s eyes, slivers of black spilling into his gray irises.

 

A coil tightened in your belly, the hard knot threatening to come undone.

 

You wanted to reach out, to thread your fingers through Ren’s hair, to feel the strands against your skin, silky black against your palm.

 

He was too close, you knew.  _ Far _ too close. There was always a faint hint of coffee on him at all times, the heady aroma blending almost perfectly with his familiar scent.

 

Of course you had a Palace. You wanted every part of Ren—every part of him that you couldn’t have, every part of him that belonged to Niijima Makoto. It would be easy to close the distance, to slide your mouth across his, to feel his lips react to the unexpected gesture.

 

_ Just give in, _ a voice echoed faintly inside of you.  _ Make him yours. _

 

It’d be simple, a portion of your mind supplied. Show him the side of yourself you locked away from the rest of the world, the one that craved Amamiya Ren’s warmth and affection—the side that wanted to tug on the thread of darkness that existed in the very depths of his person.

 

Joker was the Wild Card. A wearer of all masks. A schoolboy by day and a Phantom Thief after hours. He was also the boy who’d captured your heart.

 

_ It’s easy. So easy. _ You willed your body to move, propelling it forward, inch by agonizing inch.

 

You hadn’t expected Morgana to land on Ren’s head with a shrill cry, his weight nearly toppling your leader over and onto the cafe’s floor.

 

“Weren’t you two planning on going upstairs?” Morgana asked as Ren caught him by the scruff of his neck with a less than pleasant look.

 

So  _ that _ was how it was going to be. You eyed Morgana with a neutral glance despite the storm roiling in you, pressing against your flesh.

 

“Warn me next time,” Ren said, depositing Morgana onto the seat beside you with a soft thump.

 

“Sorry. I thought I saw something on your head. Must be those feline reflexes.”

 

You lifted Morgana in your arms, cradling him to your chest. You ignored the way his nose twitched. “How noble of you, trying to help out a friend in need.”

 

“I’d do anything for our leader,” he replied, mouth twisting in the only kind of smile a cat could give. “And you, too.”

 

You squeezed Morgana’s middle a little more forcefully than necessary, his startled yelp pleasing you. “Thank you, Morgana. I’ll try to remember that.”

 

You waited for Ren by the stairs as he shut off all the lights, the wood creaking beneath your shoes while you ascended the steps, the light of his attic bedroom guiding you forward. It was a bit cleaner than the last time you’d seen it, the souvenirs stacked along the shelves on the right-hand side making it appear homey and welcoming. Morgana slinked to the ground as he slid from your hold, his frame leaping into Ren’s bed, where he proceeded to groom himself.

 

You slid onto the sofa as Ren searched through his clothes, your eyes traveling the length of his living space with a critical eye.

 

His room felt different somehow, like you were seeing it for the first time again. It made you feel jittery.

 

“Here,” Ren announced, appearing in your field of view with folded clothes. “I’ll wait downstairs for you to change, okay?”

 

You trusted him. Even Ryuji had a bit more decency than that.

 

“Come on, Morgana,” Ren called out. “Let’s give her some privacy.”

 

Their shadows melted into a shapeless form along the wall by the stairs as they descended together.

 

You stripped, making sure to leave on your bra and panties; Ren’s clothes settled heavily on your skin as you pulled down the hem of his shirt over your thighs. You were thankful for the string on his sweatpants, the ends of it dragging over your toes as you cinched it against your waist.

 

Against your better judgment, you lifted the neckline to your mouth and nose, briefly inhaling his scent and the fresh smell of laundry detergent.

 

This was bad, you thought, your eyes sliding closed, Ren’s face forming easily behind your lids.

 

This was much worse than you ever could have imagined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I managed to entertain you with this. Comments and kudos are very much appreciated.
> 
> Stay frosty, my friends. There’s much more to come.


	2. Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back at it again with another chapter. 
> 
> One thing to note: I'm tweaking canon a little bit. In-game Palace dates during the last months of the game have been pushed up a tad (instead of the October deadline the game set for Okumura's Palace, the Phantom Thieves took care of it in early to mid-September), so just be aware of this. I've already made small edits to the first chapter to reflect this change. The reasons for this will be revealed in due time, so please bear with me.
> 
> Other than that, nothing has changed too much.
> 
> By the way, I hope ya'll are enjoying the anime and that delicious P5D opening. Ren is slowly killing me.
> 
> Enjoy.

You didn’t exactly hate mornings, but waking up at least an hour before your biological clock was enough to make you dislike just about everything within five feet of you. Even your hair had been uncooperative. Loose strands stuck up from the crown of your head, each one a nuisance you tried to press down with little success.

 

You had forgotten that it was your turn to prepare the classroom. It was ironic, in the sense that you always had to remind Ryuji when it was his time to make the early morning train to Aoyama-Itchome. He was generally late anyway, arriving only five or ten minutes before all the other students poured into the building, his movements jerky and scrambled as he tried to straighten the desks before the teacher arrived for first period. Against your desire to teach him a lesson, you never failed to drop off your belongings at your own desk in order to help him set up, the sleeves of your blouse or blazer rolled up to your elbows.

 

You glanced at your phone for the third time since you arrived at the station. You considered messaging Ren, wondering if he was already awake, ready to start his day. He probably was, if Sojiro had anything to say about it.

 

You were suddenly caught off guard by the body that sidled up beside you, the air of refinement and diligence that surrounded him not allowing for any cases of mistaken identity. Your grip tightened around the strap of your school bag, fingers warping the material as you turned your head to greet Akechi Goro with a slight nod.

 

He was carrying his attache case—the same one he had brought to Leblanc two nights ago, the same one you often saw him carrying when he ran into you and the other Phantom Thieves at conveniently odd places and times. On more than one occasion you got the impression that he was following you, and by the look Morgana had given you at your suggestion, it seemed he’d been thinking it, too.

 

When Akechi smiled at you, you resisted the urge to spin on your heel and flee the scene; it was a dedicated obedience to your school life that made you stay, rooted to the spot next to him.

 

“I usually run into Ren. Strange that I’d see you here instead. What a pleasant surprise.”

 

“Good morning, Akechi-san,” you said almost automatically. “How has work been treating you?”

 

He gave a pleasant laugh. “Engaging, as always.” You saw his expression shift, brows pinching in thought. “The Phantom Thieves certainly are an elusive bunch, wouldn’t you say? The public support has reached a fever pitch. It’s only a matter of time before the bubble bursts.”

 

“That won’t happen,” you replied despite yourself, every fiber in your body ready and willing to challenge the ace detective. “The Phantom Thieves are too important to be destroyed by a turn in public opinion.”

 

Akechi’s voice dipped low, his tone questioning. “How can you be so sure? You seem to have quite a bit of faith in them.”

 

The distance between the two of you seemed minuscule. You wondered if he liked being touched, or if he hated the very idea of human contact.

 

“I did tell you to be careful with your honesty. You seem to be the type to wear your heart on your sleeve.”

 

You didn’t know whether to take that as a general observation or a snide remark. “What about you? Isn’t it exhausting smiling all the time?”

 

Something shifted in the space that separated you from him, the transference of energy like a wall socket short-circuiting.

 

He was dangerous, you realized. Far more dangerous than you or your friends had initially considered.

 

“Appearances are exceedingly important, even if we often refuse to entertain the idea.”

 

When you leveled your stare with his, you found that his gaze was roving over you intently, as though he was peeking right into your very core.

 

“I couldn’t care less what anyone thought of me,” you stated, only half-heartedly meaning it.

 

Akechi’s smile widened—slowly and deliberately—the action not-quite reaching his eyes. “No? Not even your gracious leader?”

 

Ice lurched through your veins at his words, the chill quickly receding as heat lapped agonizingly at your skin.

 

Akechi knew he’d struck a nerve. The emotion that leaked out of you was proof enough.

 

How had he even known? Had you been _that_ obvious?

 

No, you reconciled. Morgana was particularly perceptive, and even he had only managed to confirm it when you’d revealed the existence of your Palace to him and Ren.

 

But Akechi was an outsider, someone afforded with the opportunity to look within. There were bound to be things he had the ability to perceive. With how much you suspected he scrutinized your group from the sidelines, you wondered if he ever waited for the openings he desired—catching every one of you alone and vulnerable, ripe for his deductions.

 

He seemed to unsettle Makoto most of all, and by the way he occasionally singled her out, you wondered if he harbored some warped sense of fascination for her.

 

“Listen,” Akechi began after the prolonged silence, a hand slipping into the pocket of his black trousers. “On the off-chance that you would be willing to share your company with me sometime, I would like for you to have my contact information.”

 

Your body moved as if on auto-pilot, hands reaching for your own cell phone nestled in the pocket of your vest as Akechi pulled out his. The exchange of emails was brief, inconsequential. Your fingers practically shook as they carefully entered his data.

 

The intercom above the platform crackled before a voice broke out over the speaker.

 

“Sounds like your train is arriving,” Akechi said. “I look forward to speaking with you again.”

 

He waved to you as you boarded your train. The doors closed, the window overlooking the station framing him.

 

You watched him until the train began to accelerate, the image of him disappearing as it gained speed.

 

The train was less packed this morning, and you welcomed the lack of bodies pushing up against you, the few empty seats sprinkled throughout the car calling to you. You dropped your bag to the floor as you sank into one, thighs pressing together as you tapped your left heel.

 

What good would come of meeting Akechi alone, at some as of yet unspecified location? It would only make your friends worry if you told them your intentions—that you planned to find out more about him, hoping that he would be willing to express himself when it was just you and no one else. It was also a chance to see him in a whole new dynamic, not necessarily as the detective who held you and the other Phantom Thieves under scrutiny, but as the young man who smiled far too easily, far too much.

 

You had already told Ren about your Palace—had revealed more than you’d ever desired to the boy you wanted.

 

Keeping a meeting with Akechi a secret from him seemed less egregious in comparison.

 

*~*~*~*~*

 

When Ryuji parked himself on the desk in front of you during passing period, you nearly flinched at the sound of the chair scraping along the floor.

 

“Yo,” he greeted, a wide grin splitting his face, dark brown eyes brighter than the sun trying to make its way out of the gray clouds swirling in the sky outside your classroom window. “You doing okay? You seem really out of it.”

 

You knew Ren wouldn’t tell anyone about what the two of you had discussed, but it was still reassuring to know that he hadn’t told anyone. Not even his best buddy.

 

“Not any more than you,” you responded, fixing Ryuji with a calculating glance. “You stay up playing video games again?”

 

Ryuji scoffed as he folded his arms across his chest, forefinger tapping against his arm. “No way. Had too much shit to do last night.”

 

Ryuji was a horrible liar, and he was even worse at playing the part of a liar. He was as transparent as glass, more so than anyone else among your group. You had always appreciated that about him—his constant need to be open and painfully honest, even if he lacked any sort of tact. He could be annoying but never overbearing, and you knew that in his heart he strived for the best of intentions, even if he proved unable to read a situation as aptly as Ren or Morgana.

 

Sharing homeroom with Ryuji had made it easy to bond with him, to learn his little quirks and his aspirations for the future; although you spent nearly half your time together in the classroom babysitting him and making sure he was actually _in class_ and not playing on his phone, you’d grown comfortable with him. He wasn’t like a brother to you, or your first choice for what you considered boyfriend material, but he hovered somewhere in between.

 

Ryuji was safe. Perhaps safe enough to lay down your arms and concede if the moment was right. He was easy on the eyes and definitely not attached to someone else.

 

 _No_ , you thought. That wasn’t fair to him. Not even to you.

 

You lifted a brow at his lame explanation, expression incredulous. “Like?”

 

When he took in your disbelieving stare, he folded like a deck of cards. His frame deflated in the desk as he let out a pained groan, arms sliding behind him to grip the seat.

 

“Studyin’ is hard, okay? This shit weather ain’t helping, either.”

 

You rested your arms against your own desk, your chin falling against them with a sigh. “You better not let Makoto find out. She might resort to taking drastic measures Ren wouldn’t even be able to bail you out of, like revoking your Metaverse-exploring privileges.”

 

“When did this turn into you lecturin’ _me_ ? I asked how _you_ were doing,” Ryuji said, tone laced with a hint of exasperation. “I mean, you look dead.”

 

You frowned, the corners of your mouth pulling downward. “Gee, _thanks_.”

 

You hadn’t slept much at Ren’s place on Saturday night, the steady rise and fall of his chest as he curled onto his side almost hypnotic in the near-dark. He never failed to take the sofa when you came over, and you often wondered how painful it was for him to cram his body into that confined space with only a spare blanket draped over his hunched form. He was a light snorer, the sounds of his deep breathing amplified in the small space, the faint glow of the lamp from the Sky Tower in Asakusa highlighting his relaxed features.

 

Morgana had caught you staring, and you’d almost been ashamed enough to care when he traveled the length of Ren’s bed to plant himself beside your head.

 

 _“You need to sleep,”_ Morgana had said softly. _“You don’t want wrinkles before you’re thirty, do you?”_

 

You hadn’t bothered to entertain his rhetorical question. You’d gazed up at him instead, smile wan. _“Ann would call you a creep for bothering a young lady in the middle of the night, you know.”_

 

You had almost laughed at the kink that had formed in his tail. _“_ ** _Not_ ** _funny. If anything,_ **_you’re_ ** _the one being creepy.”_

 

You’d reached a hand out, the tip of your finger finding Morgana’s cool nose. _“Touche. I can’t resist these distorted desires.”_

 

Morgana hadn’t been amused by your response. You would have been the first to admit that it had been in bad taste.

 

Ryuji scratched at the back of his blond head, the toe of his shoe kicking at air. “Dude, I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just worried about you, all right?”

 

His concern touched you. More than you’d thought possible in your current state. “Yeah,” you said. “I know.”

 

“So… What’s eating ya?”

 

You made a show of looking at the clock. “How much time do we have?”

 

Ryuji didn’t seem to pick up on your joke. “I dunno, like five minutes?”

 

You resisted the urge to massage your temples. “It’s complicated, Ryuji. Trust me.”

 

Ryuji refused to relent, even as you tried to nudge the conversation in another direction. “What’s so complicated that you can’t tell a friend about it?”

 

You groaned, wanting nothing more than to be in the safety and comfort of a bed, the sheets pulled over your head to block out the rest of the world. It was a miracle you had even gotten dressed this morning. You had considered ducking out of school just before classes ended in order to avoid the evening rush, but Makoto had called for a group meeting to discuss the targets you had yet to tackle in the depths of Mementos.

 

It would have been easier to avoid them for the time being, to sort out your own feelings—to work out the kinks in your armor. You didn’t want Ren or Makoto to be near one another, as much as it pained you to admit that. You didn’t hate Makoto, but she was a casualty of your fractured heart—a scapegoat for the Palace that had unknowingly crept up inside of you until it manifested into something you could no longer ignore.

 

Your Shadow had been there to receive you as you stepped into the Metaverse, the love hotel looming ahead of you, splashes of red and pink accentuated by neon lights. Surprisingly, you hadn’t changed into your Phantom Thief outfit.

 

 **_“This is the place exists inside of you,”_ ** your Shadow-self had said, voice low and warbled. Accusatory. **_“This is the face you hide from everyone.”_ **

 

Ryuji’s genuine concern uncovered something inside of you even as you tried to chase it away. You began to trace your finger across your desk, nail scratching at the wood. “Say you wanted to tell someone a secret you’ve been keeping for a long time—a secret so big it could potentially ruin a friendship? Maybe even multiple friendships? What would you do?”

 

Ryuji scrunched up his face in thought. “Ain’t no secret worth keeping, especially between friends. I should know. I tell Ren everything.”

 

“ _Everything_?” you echoed, skeptical.

 

“Everything,” Ryuji repeated. “After all that shit with Kamoshida, I almost gave up trying to care, y’know? But that dude really lit a fire under me.” He pressed a hand against his leg, the memory of Kamoshida’s injury sobering his smile. “Those shitty ass adults hide enough from us. What’s the point in being like them?”

 

Ryuji’s words caused a flurry of butterflies to stir in your stomach. More queasy than exhilarating, you felt the heavy hum of their invisible wings.

 

It was so simple for him. So easy to be honest. You envied him.

 

“Oh, Ryuji,” you said, sighing.

 

He blinked at you owlishly. “What? Did I say somethin’ weird?”

 

You shook your head, gaze downcast. “No. Not at all.”

 

Ryuji almost looked smug as he tilted back in his seat, eyes lifting to the ceiling. “Tell that friend of yours she’s got nothin’ to worry about. I know you won’t treat ‘er any differently, whatever she has to tell ya.”

 

A sound bubbled out of your throat—somewhere between a scoff and a sob. You buried your head into your arms, nails digging into your sleeves.

 

“I’m sure she’ll be ecstatic,” you replied, your voice barely more than a mutter. Ryuji caught it all the same.

 

Your classmates were starting to return. Passing period was over.

 

You felt Ryuji’s hand pat your shoulder as he rose. “Always happy to help. Try not to beat yourself up over it anymore, ‘kay?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Although you generally took an interest in Inui-sensei’s History lessons, you spent the entire lecture glued to your phone beneath your desk.

 

You knew it was wrong of you to impose; you didn’t know Akechi’s schedule. Even if he was a thorn in the Phantom Thieves’ side, he was also a student like you, with grades to manage and responsibilities to handle.

 

 _From, You. 13:47:_ **_Hey, I’d like to meet with you_** , you typed, signing your name at the bottom of the message.

 

You hadn’t expected a quick reply (or one at all despite his invitation), so when your phone buzzed inside your pocket not more than a minute later, you were completely surprised.

 

 _From, Akechi. 13:48:_ **_Well, this is quite unexpected. I didn’t think you would take me up on my offer so soon._ **

 

He still managed to condescend, even over a message.

 

 _From, You. 13:52:_ **_Call it boredom._ **

 

It took him longer to respond this time. A part of you was afraid you had dissuaded him.

 

 _From, Akechi. 14:01:_ **_Aren’t you in class right now?_ **

 

 _From, You. 14:01:_ **_Aren’t you?_ **

 

 _From, Akechi. 14:03:_ **_No, actually. I’m working._ **

 

You took a moment to scout Ryuji in the back corner of the classroom. He was playing a side-scrolling shooter on his phone.

 

 _From, You. 14:04:_ **_Right. Can’t just forget about the Phantom Thieves, can you?_ **

 

 _From, Akechi. 14:06:_ **_Would you like me to?_ **

 

The butterflies from earlier made a resurgence, but the sensation was different this time—the constant fluttering swelling into minute bursts.

 

 _From, You. 14:07:_ **_What if I ask nicely?_ **

 

 _From, Akechi. 14:09:_ **_You can certainly try._ **

 

Your fingers flew faster on the keyboard, and before you could filter your next message through your brain, you hit send.

 

 _From, You. 14:09:_ **_What if I beg?_ **

 

Ryuji jumped out of his seat as Inui-sensei called on him. You felt your face flush.

 

What was wrong with you…? This was an enemy. _Your_ enemy.

 

You cradled your head, breathing uneven as your heartbeat roared in your ears.

 

Maybe this _was_ a mistake, after all. You barely knew Akechi—only the side of him that he’d shown you in front of the others. If this morning was any indication, it was in your best interest to remain as far away from him as possible.

 

Yet, his expression in Leblanc had intrigued you, thrusting you into his gravitational orbit.

 

There was no way he’d answer you after that. It was too forward—too awkward and just a little bit desperate.

 

You nearly yelped when your phone vibrated against your hand.

 

 _From, Akechi. 14:15:_ **_I admit, the prospect is rather enticing._ **

 

You vaguely wondered if throwing your phone across the room was acceptable behavior.

 

 _From, You. 14:16:_ **_So, when and where would you like me to do this?_ **

 

The class erupted into a chorus of murmurs as Ryuji settled back into his seat, clearly miffed and entirely unamused.

 

 _From, Akechi. 14:17:_ **_I leave that to your discretion._ **

 

So, he was leaving it up to you to pick your poison.

 

You switched off the chat window, sliding your phone back into your pocket.

 

History class was almost over. It couldn’t end soon enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates will be a bit slow since the end of the semester is nearing for me, but rest assured, I'll still be working on this. I'm having way too much fun to leave ya'll hanging.
> 
> Your wonderful words/thoughts mean so much to me. You guys are the best. Stay amazing and be good.


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